Innocence
by Nairobi-Harper
Summary: Didi explains how she learned to accept the change in Tommy.


Author's note: Just a little quick something that I wrote while I was tired.

This story takes place from Didi's POV, and is rather short, you'll notice. This is the first story that I've ever written from the perspective of one of the adults. I hope that I portrayed Didi well.

I also wanted to tell you guys that, once I get home from shoe shopping tomorrow (you'd be surprised to know how quickly I outgrow my shoes,) I'm going to update my profile. One of the new things that I'll be talking about is Hurricane Patricia, which is going on in Mexico, and, as my father said, the biggest hurricane in the Western hemisphere. I'll get more into detail on my profile, though for now, I just want to say that I hope that the residents of Mexico stay safe, and that they can find shelter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rugrats. Rugrats belongs to Klasky Csupo, as does its characters, such as the main character of this one-shot, Didi.

 **Innocence**

When I was first starting out as mother, I didn't think that things could be extremely difficult. I thought that if you were a good parent, and if you tried to be a good parent, your child wouldn't turn out to be a delinquent.

Once Stu and I had learned of my pregnancy, I tried everything that I could to have good children – I ate healthy foods, I read parenting magazines, and I watched every mom on television carefully to assure that I could end up just like them.

Soon enough, our first son, Tommy, was born. He'd been born premature, which worried me deeply. I'd heard the stories about premature children, and the very idea of our Tommy not making it out well was rather disturbing for a mother.

Once I saw his little face in the incubator, I tried to assure him that it was alright. I don't know how I did it, though I managed to compose myself and keep strong for him.

With me, he stayed strong, as well. In fact, he grew to be a very brave child. Sometimes, I wonder if that experience led him to become the brave young man that he is today. I'm hopeful that it did; it'd mean that I've at least done _something_ right as a mother.

About a year and a half later, I gave birth to my youngest child. We named him Dillan Prescott Pickles, though we refer to him as 'Dil' for short.

A lot of trouble came that year. Not only did Tommy, Dil, and their friends get lost in the woods, but Dil was also crying quite a bit, which meant that we stayed up constantly to sing him lullabies. I can't imagine how that must've made Tommy feel.

For the first six years or so of their lives, Tommy and Dil were childish, innocent. They had missing teeth, they didn't understand jokes on adult sitcoms, they were usually polite, and they were always smiling. It made me proud of myself as a mother. I felt that I was finally living up to the standards of the moms that I'd always seen on television. I felt as if I actually were one of them.

I quickly began to notice change in the two after that, however. They slowly began distancing themselves away from me, becoming engrossed in their video games, lying to me about what they were doing, watching adult sitcoms – it made me feel as if I were a horrible mother, simply wretched. Whenever Tommy would ask me to bring his dinner upstairs, or Dil would pretend that he hadn't been watching that horrid sitcom 'Friends,' I felt that I was a bad mom, frankly the worst.

I tried to fix all of this. By the time that I made my attempts, it was too late. They'd actually gotten used to this type of lifestyle, to the point where they nearly lost their minds over losing television. The feelings of guilt came, and all that I wanted was for everything to be okay again, for Dil to be the adorable three-year old who was constantly saying "I love you" and for Tommy to be the laughing baby that he once was.

Not once did I assume that they'd lost their innocence. I preferred to think that they were going to return to their older days.

I convinced myself that this was a phase that every child went through, and I turned out to be terribly, terribly, wrong.

I still remember the day when the police called, telling me that Tommy had stolen from a nearby drug store, that a friend of his that I didn't know had brought a gun along.

I'd frozen up.

"You must have the wrong person," I'd told him. "Tommy… my wonderful son, with good grades… he'd never do that. He'd never do such a thing!"

I tried to remain faithful in Tommy. After all, I knew everything about him, his schedule, his grades, his friends… or, so I thought.

In a moment of stupidity, I'd dared the officers to bring Tommy and this friend of his back if such a thing were true.

Looking back on it, I could've gotten arrested for disrespecting authority, but he was nice and seemed to understand my problem.

Fifteen minutes later, there stood Tommy, with messy hair, a runny nose, and tears in his eyes. His friend stood there, emotionless and pale, zombie-like.

As I shook, unable to believe that something of such sort had happened, I wondered where the innocence had gone. I realized something that I hadn't realized before: my eldest son's eyes were dead. They were bloodshot red and nearly lifeless.

For the very first time in my life, I knew that my son had been hijacked of his innocence. I no longer saw the innocence in his eyes that he'd had when he was four. No, I saw a criminal, a fifteen-year old criminal with a grey jacket, messy hair, and clear regret for his actions.

I spoke no words at all as I signed what the officer asked me to and allowed my son's friend inside to call his parents.

I wept once the older boy had left. I wished for the days of my son's innocence to come. Nothing came. Nothing whatsoever.

I felt worthless, as if I'd failed as a mother.

"I could've stopped this," I quietly told myself.

I listed the things that I could've done: I could've taken him outside more, I could've enrolled him in a different school, I could've moved with Stu and Dil – I could've done numerous things.

In fact, I was already considering moving to a different town. I'd had myself half-convinced that Tommy needed time away from his friends, especially since he'd be going off to college soon.

I dropped that idea a few days later, when I stood in front of the mirror for ten minutes, staring at my reflection. I didn't see an abusive, angry, woman that had tried to shape her son into a God. I saw an upset, quiet, woman that had tried her best to hold her family together, and had failed miserably.

I saw the effort in myself, the effort that I'd made. I couldn't change Tommy. I knew that now. I'd done a few things incorrectly during my path as a mother.

The point was that I had to try to learn. I couldn't focus on getting Tommy's innocence back, or getting the old Tommy back. I just needed to focus on getting Tommy better. He didn't need to end up as a twenty-year old man acting just like a child; he needed to grow up and change, I realized. I just needed to be a good guide to him throughout that change, of which I had not.

I'd learned a lesson, a life-changing lesson. I felt completely secure with what I'd recently learned.

I didn't feel like a clueless mom anymore searching through television to figure out how to be a good mom. I felt like a genuinely good mom who was trying.

That was the day that I'd learned to accept change.

 **That concludes this one-shot! I have to go to bed in five minutes, so I'll see if I have time to type up the story about Tommy's premature birth.**


End file.
